


Interludes

by Niedzilla



Category: Kamen Rider Ex-Aid
Genre: Gen, Medical Professionals, Medical School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 10:40:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11146743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niedzilla/pseuds/Niedzilla
Summary: A glimpse into Houjou Emu's (boring) daily life.





	Interludes

**Author's Note:**

> My first time writing here. Don’t get your hopes up :(  
> Also, it’s weird that there’s no other intern or resident in that hospital, so I made up some people.

**Interludes**

Medical school was everything he imagined and yet, nothing like he envisioned. Pre-clinical lessons were mostly theoretical, which means he had to study everything while understanding nothing about the subjects he was learning about. Still better than the practical parts, though. No, it was not that he thought the cadaver was icky, it was because he was allergic to the formaldehyde. Nothing severe, of course, but a brief sniff is enough to make his mucus glands worked for several hours—which spelled disaster for his practical exam, because the faculty always used a cadaver freshly lifted from the formaldehyde pool for end of term exam, and the foul smell was three times worse than the usual cadaver used for practical lessons. He barely passed the midterm because of the sudden bouts of sneeze and clogged nose were messing with his ability to think clearly.

The only way for him to pass the end of the term practical exam was to study as hard as he could to cut down his thinking time and stock up on antihistamines to take before the exam.

It was T minus ten hours before the exam. Emu was cramming three books at once: Sobotta’s, Grey’s, and Yokochi’s _Atlas of Human Anatomy_. Well, mostly Yokochi’s. It had real cadavers. Sobotta and Grey were liars who lies about the colours of human organs. He remembered studying Sobotta for his first practical exam and was disappointed because everything were in the shades of greyish, yellowish brown colour. It was ugly and nothing like the atlas portrayed. After that, he bought another anatomical atlas where the pictures were of a real cadaver and nothing hand drawn. The only reason he bought Grey was because the embryology sections.

Emu flipped another page of the atlas and checked the clock on the bedside table. It was 10 pm. He considered taking a two hours nap but then decided against it. Sleep was for the weak and it was not the first time he pulled an all-nighter.

Although, the last time he did, he had collapsed.

Emu’s gaze flickered to the games and consoles lining his shelves. He had not touch any games since—since the exams started two weeks ago. He remembered the days back when he was the gamer M who would have balked at the idea of not playing any games for a day and could have a gaming marathon for a week nonstop. Looking back, it was a rather stupid decision, losing a few days of sleep just to participate in a gaming tournament. Sure, he won the tourney, but it affected his health, didn’t it? What’s a few trophy compared to his life?

He didn’t even remember how he’d won the tourney. He did however remember seeing hallucination— _or was it illusion?_ — of the surgery he had ten years prior, which ignited his long lost passion of becoming a doctor. It was strange how he could flipped his switch just like that.

If he could be the number one gamer, medical school shouldn’t be that big of a hurdle, right?

Emu sighed as he practiced his writing. _Substantia grisea centralis. Nucleus et fasciculus gracilis. Nucleus et fasciculus cuneatus. Nucleus et tractus nervi spinales._

_Sleep is for the weak_ , he reminded himself.

* * *

 

A few years later, Emu realized as he checked his first patient’s vital that cramming was only good for short term memories and getting good grades. The lack of long term memories mean he had to cram everything _again_ before starting his pediatric intern.

His first patient at the ER was a three year old boy presenting with fever since two days ago and, from what the parents described, a seizure just ten minutes before they arrived at the ER. PGCS 10, heart rate 110 bpm, respiratory rate 28, temperature 39◦ C, airway clear, breathing adequate, and circulation stable, and then—

Then what? Should he administer the drug, wait for the pediatric resident, or proceed with neurological examination? All of the theory he’d read had not prepared him for this kind of decision making. Technically, he could not administer the drug without the pediatric resident there to watch over him. But the resident had left the station to report today’s patients to the supervisor and unlikely to return soon.

Well, intern was always wrong anyway. “Nurse, Diazepam 5 mg.”

Ten minutes later, the pediatric resident return to find Emu finishing neurological examination on the child while completing his aloanamnesis with the parents. He waved at Emu to get back to the nurse station.

“You did good,” was what the resident said after Emu finished reporting.

“I’m sorry, I know I should have informed y—Eh, what?”

“Patient’s life comes first. Administering the drug to prevent the seizure from reoccurring is the right choice. You don’t have to wait for anyone to do that.”

Emu sighed in relief.

The resident snorted at the obvious relief showing on the intern’s face. “However, you should’ve waited for me before doing the neurological examination. I have to see for myself whether you’re doing it right or not. Come on, show me again how you did it from the start so I can tell you how wrong you are.”

Emu laughed weakly as the resident dragged him back to where his patient was.

Hospital Rule number one, intern was always wrong. Rule number two, if intern was _somehow_ right, see the first rule.

* * *

 

The first operation he attended as an intern in surgery department was an MRM. Despite having watched a few terabytes of videos about surgery and MRM in general, he watched everything from the sideline. He didn’t know. He thought he could be an assistant operator, but there’s a resident filling that post already.

“Stand behind me and watch,” was what Hiiro told him the moment he entered the room.

“Also, fill in the patient’s medical resume while you’re at it,” the resident piped in.

Hiiro glared at the resident and the resident broke into sweat. “J-just kidding, doc. I forget he’s new.”

“He’s under my supervision,” Hiiro plainly stated.

The resident nodded. “Oh, I get it. Writing medical resume is in my job description anyhow.”

Emu blinked. Was his supervisor actually defending him? No. No, that cannot be.

It was a clean cut operation. It couldn’t be more than an hour since Hiiro made the first cut and the resident had already sewn the wound close.

“Oi, intern, your next op is an appendectomy with me at 4 pm,” the resident told him while pulling off the blood covered clothes and gloves. “Don’t be late!”

“Yessir,” Emu

“Also,” Hiiro added in as he picked up the patient’s medical record, “I want your report for this surgery at 3 pm _today_ on my desk.”

Emu blinked. “But that’s in less than 3 hours.”

“A minute late and I’ll throw you out of this hospital,” Hiiro warned—threatened him as he walked out the operating chamber.

“I don’t envy you for having him as supervisor, kid,” the resident said while writing the patient’s medical record. “He’s only been here for a few weeks, but he has gained the title ‘Demon King of the Surgical Division’. I bet he’ll loom over us while we’re doing the appendectomy, too. Then he’ll made you write a report that’s due in only two hours along with the revision for your previous report. You really have the worst luck in the world. What kind of crime did you do to have him as your supervisor? I thought he refused to supervise anyone ever.”

“…I don’t know. Bad connections I guess.” _Director Kagami, why did you have to do something unnecessary like this? Is ruining people’s life your hobby or something?_

“Damn. You know, it’s your first day. I’ll lend you this medical record after I finished writing.”

“Thanks. Although, I don’t think it’ll be wise. He’ll figure out right away. I should do it myself.”

“Then go and do it. Clock’s ticking.”

“Yeah. Thanks for the offer.”

It’s a good thing he’d studied up all about the operation the night before. He knew what he’s going to write. However, writing a report in two and a half hours then running back to the COT to assist in appendectomy might be too much. He wished he had another person as supervisor.


End file.
